


Impact

by TheJediCode



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Badass Hux, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Crash Landing, Danger, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hux Has No Chill, POV Alternating, POV Hux, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Stranded, Survival, Violence, Wilderness Survival
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-04-18 14:35:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14215278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJediCode/pseuds/TheJediCode
Summary: A crash landing leaves you stranded in the jungle on an unknown planet. The only other survivor is General Hux. With no way to communicate with the fleet and with t he Resistance chasing after you, the two of you are forced to stay one step ahead of your enemies while trying to survive in a strange and hostile environment. Forced by your circumstances to trust each other, the two of you forge a bond that just might be the only thing left in the galaxy worth living for.





	1. Chapter 1

READER POV  
Sirens and alarms blared from every direction. Flashing lights notified you of a thousand malfunctions. Your hands flew all over the console, trying desperately to fix something – anything. There was nothing you could do, though. The shuttle was plummeting down to the ground. It had caught fire as it entered the atmosphere, shot down by Resistance pilots. It was large enough that it hadn’t exploded when attacked or burned up entirely on entry, but there was no denying that the craft was doomed.

You tried everything you could think of in an unending flurry of action – turning dials, pressing buttons, and completing a thousand tasks you knew would have no effect on the shuttle’s survival. You and the other pilot were doing your best to steer her to the ground in one piece, but the chances of that succeeding were doubtful. You just wanted to feel like you were doing something useful, but nothing could give you that sense of accomplishment. All that was left to do was wait for the impact.

It was hot, so hot. The flames that engulfed the transport felt like they were cooking you alive. This was how you were going to die, and you were terrified. Worse still, you were transporting an important passenger, and you lamented the inevitability of his death, wishing beyond all else that there was a way to save him. You didn’t want to die by any means, but the death of General Hux would have a far more disastrous effect on the First Order. If you were killed in the crash, the Order lost a pilot, a nameless trooper, one droplet in a sea of countless replaceable individuals. If General Hux was killed, the Order lost its figurehead.

You switched on the landing gear, but there was no point. 

You braced for impact.

***

The first sense you regained was your hearing. Your brain was flooded with the sounds of beeping and whirring and every imaginable warning siren. Little by little, your vision came back. Finally, after drifting in an out of consciousness for an indeterminable amount of time, you came to with a start. You were dizzy, and you weren’t sure how long you had been out, but you knew you had to get off the ship. It wasn’t safe. 

You looked to your left and saw your copilot slumped over in his chair. You jerked his helmet off of his head and checked his pulse. Dead. Without giving it much thought, you picked up his weapon. There was no sense in leaving behind a perfectly good blaster.

Following protocol, you moved to the back of the shuttle, looking around for possible survivors. If he was alive, it was crucial that you got the general off the ship. With all the smoke in the air, you couldn’t see him. You felt your way around the craft, trying to find the irreplaceable passenger. First, you found another stormtrooper – also dead. 

Suddenly, you tripped over something on the floor. On your hands and knees, you felt around for whatever it was you had tripped on. Your hand met something soft and nonmetallic. It wasn’t part of the ship, and it wasn’t stormtrooper armor. It was a body.

“General!” you shouted, hoping he could hear you over the cacophony of sirens, praying that he wasn’t dead. “General, I’m going to get you out of here! You’re safe now!”

You hitched your arms under the general’s and dragged him towards the location of the exit. Along the way, you kicked another dropped blaster. Barely slowing your pace, you let go of Hux with one arm and hooked the weapon to your belt. Once it was secured, you regained your grip, pulling him toward the door.

You shouldered the exit, but it wouldn’t move. Again and again, you rammed yourself up against the door until it finally gave way. You needed to get the general as far away from the shuttle as you could and as soon as possible. You had switched on the appropriate toxin filter in your helmet, but Hux had no such luxury. There was no telling how much smoke he had breathed in already, and you could tell the transport was about to blow. You knew the signs that a ship was about to explode, and there was no time to waste. Once you were outside of the burning craft, you let go of the general and heaved him up onto your back as well as you could. Still half-dragging him, you hurried away as fast as your legs could carry you.

You didn’t know what planet you had crash-landed on, but the ship had made impact in the middle of what seemed to be a jungle. You were surrounded by tropical foliage in every direction. Not knowing where else to go, you carried the general into the thick of the jungle, desperate to get as far away from the smoke and fire as possible. Trees caught fire around you, extending the flaming hellscape beyond the doors of the shuttle. All that was left to do was flee.

Finally, you broke free from the cloud of smoke. For what seemed like the first time in ages, you could see in front of you. However far away you were, it wasn’t far enough. The ship would explode soon, and you didn’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity when that happened. So you kept going. You marched onward until the weight of General Hux on your back became too much to bear. Then, and only then, did you stop moving.

You propped the general up against a tree and sat down on the ground, pulling off your helmet and letting it drop to the forest floor. Suddenly, the nature of your circumstances began to sink in. Your ship had been shot down. You were alone on an unknown planet with no one but the general, who was unconscious. You had checked his pulse at some point during your trek, and he was alive for the time being. Taking stock of all you had lost, you held your head in your hands and allowed yourself a moment to cry.

When your moment of mourning was over and you felt adequately cried out, you decided to check the ammunition in the blasters you had salvaged from the crash. They were both fully-functioning, and you knew the one that had been holstered at your side at the time of takeoff hadn’t been fired. That meant you had three functioning weapons. Hux was surely armed. In the off chance that he didn’t survive, you would have four. You hoped you wouldn’t have four.

You leaned up against a tree and breathed in deeply. The jungle air was thick and sticky, and it felt foreign in your lungs, which were accustomed to breathing in the atmospherically conditioned air of a ship cabin. The humidity made you feel slow and groggy, although there was a chance that was a lingering effect of the crash. You couldn’t be sure if the slick covering of sweat that coated your body was from the fire or the wet tropical heat. 

You could smell smoke in the air, and it sickened you to think that some of that smoke was from the burning bodies of your fellow stormtroopers. You were lucky to have escaped with your life. You were even luckier to have escaped with the general. If you had returned to the First Order without him, you would have been better off not returning at all.

Your hand darted to the handle of your blaster as you heard a strange sound. The unfamiliar jungle territory had you on edge. You let go of your weapon when you realized that the noise you heard was General Hux beginning to stir. It took him awhile to regain consciousness, but he gradually made his way back to reality. When you could tell he was almost alert, you put your helmet back on. You may had escaped a shipwreck together, but you weren’t about to be caught breaking protocol, regardless of the circumstances.

You leaned over his body as he woke up, carefully observing his eyes as they opened. There was a gash on his head that suggested he had experienced blunt force trauma, and you wanted to make sure he wasn’t concussed. Fortunately, he seemed to be alright. 

Somewhat incoherently, you heard the general mumble, “What happened?”


	2. Chapter 2

HUX POV   
“The shuttle was shot down. We crash landed in the jungle on an unidentified planet,” spoke a modulated voice that sounded potentially female. 

Someone in a TIE pilot’s uniform and helmet was crouched down and leaning over Hux’s body, poking and prodding at his face and limbs.

“Stop that,” he ordered, jerking his arm away from the pilot. 

“Sorry, sir. I was just checking for injuries.”

“I’m perfectly alright.”

“Not to be insubordinate, sir,” the pilot said hesitantly, “but your head is bleeding.”

Hux tried to sit up in a more comfortable position, but pain shot through his body when he did so.

“Alright then,” he relented. 

“I think you hit your head,” the pilot informed him. “I think that knocked you out. If you had been conscious longer, I think you would have been injured more seriously.”

“Good to know,” he said grumpily, standing up despite his body’s painful protests.

The air smelled like smoke, and his skin felt sticky. He unceremoniously took off his greatcoat and let it drop to the ground. It didn’t seem like he would be needing it in the near future. 

“Where are the other members of the crew?” Hux asked, already suspecting what their fate might have been.

The pilot’s defeated posture confirmed his suspicions. He was about to ask where the shuttle was when an enormous explosion tore through the jungle. Hux could tell it had been far off in the distance, but the sound thrummed in his ears, and a wave of heat passed through the area where he stood with the pilot. He supposed that was answer enough.

“What now, General Hux?”

“Did you try to make contact with the fleet?”

“All communications were knocked out on atmospheric entry when the craft caught fire. Unless someone on our side saw that explosion, we’re stranded.”

Hux frowned. “It’s more than likely that our enemies saw us crash land. If the Resistance shot us down, I’m sure they won’t be far off, and they know better than to assume there were no survivors. It seems our best course of action is to keep moving.”

“Where, sir?”

“Forward. We move forward and hope for the best.”

The pilot held out a blaster rifle. “You might want this. We’re not alone out here. I’ve heard all sorts of creatures moving around.”

Hux nodded his thanks and shouldered the gun before leading the way onward.


	3. Chapter 3

READER POV  
“What are you doing with that?” Hux asked you after nearly fifteen minutes of trekking through the rainforest. “You can’t possibly be cold.”

“I thought it might be useful,” you explained, holding his bundled-up coat a little bit closer to yourself. “We can use it for shelter or something. Plus, we don’t know what the temperature is like at night. We might regret leaving it behind.”

“Good thinking, pilot,” he nodded. “What’s your designation?”

“FN-5681.”

“Well, FN-5681, remind me to officially commend you if we make it out of this alive. You’ve shown yourself to be quite the soldier.”

“If?” You didn’t like the sound of that.

He shrugged. “I can’t promise anything. We could very well die without reconnecting with the fleet.”

You liked the sound of that even less. Had you survived a crash landing and a fire only to die a horrible death in the wilderness? Had you rescued General Hux for nothing? He didn’t sound optimistic about your chances of survival.

The two of you marched through the jungle in silence. Not paying much attention to where you were going but trailing behind the general, you were caught off guard when he abruptly stopped, and you bumped into him.

“Careful,” he scolded, putting a hand on your shoulder to steady you and scanning the dimly lit surroundings of the understory. He was looking for something, but you weren’t sure what.

His eyes lit up and he wandered over to a tall, thin tree with no low-hanging branches. He placed his hands against it and gave it a shove, as if testing its integrity, before removing his belt. His actions confused you, but you trusted his judgement, regardless of how little sense it made. You watched with awe as he slung the belt around the tree and used it to shimmy up the trunk. He entered into the leafy foliage, and you lost sight of him momentarily. However, he soon slid back down the trunk.

“This landscape doesn’t make any sense,” he observed when his feet were back on the ground. “The trees are fairly sparse here, but they get taller and thicker I’m every direction. To make matters worse, the sun is too high to discern which direction is which. There is absolutely no sign of civilization – only more jungle.”

“Is there any good news?” you dared to ask.

“Yes, we seem to have progressed quite far from the crash site. I saw smoke rising up in the distance. I’m not quite sure how far, but we’ve covered a respectable amount of ground.”

“What are you doing?”

Hux was in the process of removing his uniform shirt, and you felt a bit scandalous watching him undress.

“It’s hot,” he said rather condescendingly. “This uniform was designed for deep space, not the tropical rainforest. I would prefer not to sweat any more than is absolutely necessary.”

He shrugged off the top and revealed a plain black undershirt, which he left on. You were glad that he didn’t peel off that layer. The sight of him was distracting enough already. You had always viewed General Hux as thin, weak, and perhaps even dainty. You might have gone as far as to call him effeminate. However, you now saw that you were very wrong about that. Toned biceps and strong shoulders peeked out from underneath the black fabric. The contrast of his pale, muscular flesh against the dark material of his shirt gave the impression that he had been carved out of white marble.

There was something beautiful about the image, yes, but there was also something sinister. In the blink of an eye, what was once stiff and proper became dark and powerful. With blood and sweat on his face and a blaster rifle in his hands, General Hux looked positively dangerous.


	4. Chapter 4

HUX POV

Hux was unoptimistic about their chances of survival. He made a mental inventory of every problem that faced them. They were stranded. There was no way to communicate with the fleet. The Resistance was likely tracking them already. There was no food, no water, no shelter. He was travelling with a complete stranger who blindly trusted in him because of his rank. The terrain was unfamiliar, and what lurked in the shadows was a mystery.

FN-5681 had obviously been put off by his pessimism. The pilot didn't know the extent of it, though. He expected to last no longer than a day or two. The odds weren't in their favor.

"Permission to remove my helmet, sir?" the trooper asked as they marched on, trampling the green, leafy underbrush with their heavy boots.

"Why are you asking me?"

"Protocol dictates-"

"Damn the protocol," he growled with annoyance. "I don't care what you do as long as it doesn't get us killed."

Hux kept his eyes ahead, not bothering to look behind him at the pilot. By keeping his focus on what was ahead of him, maybe he could convince himself that there was a way out of this situation, that maybe there was a way to make it out alive. He was doubtful. 

"Not to sound impatient, but what's the strategy?"

The unfiltered sound of FN-5681's voice caused him to glance back over his shoulder. It was rare that he saw a trooper without a helmet. They were generally in full uniform around him. He had also learned early on that it was easier not to see their faces. As soon as he looked, he wished he had told the pilot to leave the helmet on. It was difficult to forget that the soldiers were human beings when they were encased in their uniforms and armor. 

He saw the face of a woman – a young one. Close-cropped hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat and stuck out at odd angles elsewhere. There were a few small bruises on her face, likely from the crash. Pilots' helmets were padded, but even that wouldn't be enough to get a person through a high-impact nosedive completely unscathed.

Scared, curious eyes stared back at him.  
Hux was struck with the realization that the pilot was counting on him. She had been conditioned to trust, obey, and respect him. She was going to follow his lead. That would have been a reassuring thought under other circumstances, but he had no idea where he was going. He knew he should be the one with a plan, but he had no clue what to do next. At the moment, he was trying to remember as much as he could from the survival module of his training. 

"Sir?"

"Sorry, what was that?" He realized he had been engrossed in his thoughts after hearing her voice and hadn't paid attention to what she said.

"What's the plan? How are we getting out of here?"

He wasn't sure how to answer. He didn't have a plan.

Hux was saved from answering when an enormous, winged reptile swooped down at FN-5681 from the treetops as if it were planning to snatch her up in its gnarled talons. Whatever the beast was, it had a dark, leathery coating of scales and wings so large that the wind they created rustled the underbrush. Instincts kicked in, and he raised his blaster rifle. In the blink of an eye, a bolt of plasma shot through the air and felled the monstrous creature. It dropped to the ground with a heavy thud a few feet behind her. 

The young pilot stared at him with wide-eyed horror and awe. She hadn't seen the animal, hadn't heard it, hadn't had a chance to defend herself. He had saved her life. If she wasn’t counting on him before, she certainly was now.

Hux shouldered his blaster and nodded curtly at the girl. "Follow my lead, and stay alive. That’s the plan.”

He started walking again, and the girl followed after him. “Sir?”

"Try not to fall behind.”


	5. Chapter 5

READER POV  
You obediently followed after General Hux, heeding his order not to fall behind. You ventured a look over your shoulder at the giant animal he had shot down. You immediately regretted the decision. You would have been better off never knowing what the general had saved you from . He had taken it down in a single shot. You hated to think of what the consequences would have been if he hadn’t.

You fixed your eyes ahead, on General Hux. He was the one in charge. He gave orders, and you followed them. There was no reason for that to change just because you were stranded.

So you walked.

And walked.

And walked.

The jungle became more dense the farther you went. It was growing gradually darker, but you weren’t sure if it was because the trees were growing closer together or night was falling. Either way, the general stopped walking when it became too dark to see clearly.

“We’ll stop here for the night,” he declared, sitting down on the trunk of a fallen tree.

You were grateful for the opportunity to rest. Your legs were killing you, and sweat was pouting down your body. You set your helmet, rifle, and Hux's greatcoat down on the ground. The flightsuit you were wearing was thick and heavy. You knew it was risky to wear it in such a sweltering climate. It was lucky you hadn’t overheated yet. As hot as it was, though, carrying the suit would have been an unwanted burden. It was easier to wear it and suffer than lug it around.

“Permission to…” General Hux’s derisive glare stopped you in your tracks. “Oh… right. You said I don’t have to ask for permission.”

You shed the flightsuit. Regulation put you in a tight-fitting black long-sleeved shirt with a high collar and equally snug long pants. Your under layer was far from being light and airy, but you heaved a sigh of relief when the suit was off. You might have still been hot, but at least you weren’t _as_ hot.

The general regarded you with a strange expression that gave you the idea he had never seen a trooper out of uniform. You didn’t like the look in his eye. It was too near disgust to put any sort of positive spin on it. The man resented you.

 _I saved his life_ , you thought. _He should be a little more grateful. I’m the reason he’s alive_.

You were then struck with the realization that he had also saved your life from whatever that monstrous creature had been. He owed you nothing. If he had ever been in your debt, he had repaid it in a single shot. You were even, and neither had anything to hold over the other. Well, nothing except rank.

“So, do you-“ you began to speak, but the general quickly cut you off.

“I have no interest in having a conversation with you FN-5618.”

“It's 5681,” you corrected him sheepishly, taking a seat on the ground.

He sneered. “It doesn’t matter either way.”

“It matters to me,” you mumbled under your breath.

“Why? It’s a meaningless string of numbers. FN-5681 is nothing more then a chronologically generated code indicating that you were entered into the First Order records system after FN-5680 and before FN-5682.”

“It’s my name,” you told him, biting back the snide comment on the tip of your tongue in compliance with your conditioning.

The general scoffed. “No, it’s your designation. You don’t have a name; you have a number.”

“Maybe so,” you countered, “but it’s mine. And it’s the only thing I have.”

“Are you so sure about that? I would argue that the designation FN-5681 belongs to the First Order. You have nothing. Don’t delude yourself into thinking you’re valuable because you dragged me out of that ship. You’re worth nothing to me. Stormtroopers are all the same, and before you try to contradict me, I should remind you have been programmed to be the same. That’s the point of your conditioning. You are expendable.”

“I have nothing?” you questioned. “What do you have?”

His pale eyes looked dark despite their cool blue color. “I have your obedience.”

“What makes you so sure of that?” you asked with a frown, pushing the very limits of the self-control you had been programmed with.

“How else are you going to survive?”

“I’m sure I could manage without you. You might even slow me down.”

“Careful,” he warned. “Stepping out of line will send you straight to reconditioning if we survive this jungle.”

“If,” you reminded him. He had said himself that there was no guarantee of survival. In fact, he seemed very cynical about the odds.

“Then maybe I should go ahead and recondition you myself. Don’t push your luck, pilot. Insubordination doesn’t become you.”

 _And arrogance doesn’t become you, General_ , you wanted to say. _It’s a shame you based your entire personality on it._

Instead, you quietly answered him, “Understood , sir.”

“I’ll take first watch. Try to rest. We have a long way to go tomorrow.”

“Understood, sir.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

HUX POV

They survived the night.  Each of them had taken a turn keeping watch while the other slept.  Rest had not come easily.  The noises of the jungle were threatening, and wakeful periods divided Hux's attempts at sleep.  Despite his exhaustion, it was difficult to drift off.  His guard was up, and adrenaline pumped through his veins.  He had taken note of the fact that the pilot's sleep had been fitful as well.  Regardless, they lived to see morning.  Now, they just had to hope they would live to see the next.

The dawn had snuck up on them.  It was still dark under the thick canopy of the forest, and it took Hux quite some time to realize that a small amount of light had managed to filter through the treetops.  

"Are you ready to move on?" he asked.  "If the Resistance hasn't found us yet, they can't be far behind.  We've managed to evade them this far, but I don't want to give them a chance to catch up to us."

"I'm ready," she said with a nod, collecting the items she had placed on the ground the night before.

Hux had an idea. 

"Wait," he instructed her, pulling the helmet out of her hands.  "We're not going to need this."

"I know, but I don't want to leave it behind.  If someone really is following us, we don't want to leave a trail."

"Or do we?" 

Hux looked around until he found a large, lichen-covered rock.  The pilot watched with incredulity as he dashed the helmet against the stone.  Pieces broke off, and heavy scratches appeared in the plastoid composite.  Soon, the helmet had been all but completely crushed.

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed, wrenching the mutilated armor from his hands.

"Instead of making it look like we were never here, it will be considerably easier to make it look like we never made it any farther."

"Have you had that the whole time?" FN-5681 asked when he pulled out a knife.

"Yes, and it's going to make much quicker work of this than what I could manage with my hands.  Give me that flightsuit."

The trooper handed him the suit, and he proceeded to shred it to pieces with the blade he had produced.  Next he asked for his greatcoat and repeated the process.   He strewed the garments on the ground and tossed the helmet away, paying no attention to where it landed.

"Now it looks like we were attacked.  We were torn to shreds.  We didn't survive."

With a final nod, Hux collected his blasters and started walking.  He didn’t look behind him, but he knew FN-5681 was following him.  He reached up to pull down a thicket of vines that were growing where he wanted to walk.  He grabbed them in his left hand (his right holding onto his blaster) and hissed in pain as the vines unfurled a row of thorns that lacerated his palm.  What kind of place was this that even the plants had claws?

Seeing the blood beginning to seep out of the wound he holstered his blaster and squeezed his hand around the cut, causing more fluid to pool in his palm.  With a macabre notion forming in his head, he turned around and walked back to where they had left their torn clothing.  Urging more blood to spill out, he picked up his coat and wiped his hand on the ripped material.  He grabbed the pilot's flightsuit next and smeared blood on it as well.

Hux saw the horrified look on FN-5681's face as she watched him.  He knew it was grotesque, but it would also add to the plausibility of the staged scene.  Who would believe that they had been mauled by a wild animal if there was no blood?  He stepped back and admired his work, pulling his knife out again and handing it to the disgusted pilot.

"Cut one of the sleeves off of your shirt," he instructed.

"Why?" she asked, obeying even as she challenged his demand.

"Don't question my orders.  Just follow them."

When she had done as he commanded, he took the sleeve from her, stretched it out, and wrapped it around his hand, using his teeth to help tie it off.  It was a poor excuse for a bandage, but it would do under the circumstances.

"Here," the girl said, grabbing his wrist.  "Let me help."

She made a move to untie the bandage and redo it more neatly, but he pulled his hand away.  The feeling of her bare hands on his skin made him uncomfortable.  He saw her pilot's gloves tucked into her waistband and almost considered ordering her to put them back on in the off-chance that she tried to touch him again.  Troopers wore gloves – that was the fact of the matter.  The fact that she had dared to lay a hand on him was disconcerting.

"That's not necessary.  We need to move on."

"Yes, sir."

They walked in silence for almost an hour by Hux's estimation.  Neither of them spoke a word.  The only sounds they made were the crunching of their boots on the shade-loving plants that grew on the forest floor and their heavy breathing in the thick, humid air.  The silence was broken when FN-5681 spoke up.

"We need to find food," she informed General Hux, "and water."

He nodded his agreement and told her that she should keep an eye out for edible plants. He would be on the lookout for a water source.

"We don't want to take any risks," he said.  "We don't know what is and isn't poisonous.  If you're positive that you recognize a plant, that's excellent, but it you're unsure, don't take a chance.  My advice is to watch the fauna.  If the animals are eating something, it's most likely safe to consume.  Even then, it's a bit of a gamble as to whether or not it's safe for  _human_  consumption."

"Understood, sir."

"Whatever you do, be careful."


	7. Chapter 7

READER POV

"There," you called out, pointing to a scrubby little bush where some sort of marsupial with a baby in in its pouch was gathering and eating fruit, occasionally biting off a small piece and handing it to its offspring.  As endearing as you normally would have found the sight, you were too hungry to focus on anything but the prospect of food.

"Good work," Hux commended.  His tone was bland, but you accepted the compliment just the same.

You rushed up to the plant, scaring off the animal when you did so.  When you got closer, you saw that the fruit on the bush was unfamiliar.  You hadn't seen anything quite like it before.  The creatures had seemed to enjoy it and did so safely.  As Hux had said previously, you just had to hope it was suitable for humans as well.

You picked a piece of fruit from the plant and sniffed it.  Its peel prevented you from smelling it.  You frowned.  You had intended to attempt to judge its edibility partially based on its odor.  It was to serve as a preliminary safety test before you actually bit into it and potentially poisoned yourself.  You eyed it carefully, turning it to view from all angles before finally daring to take a small bite.

Immediately, you spit out what little you had bit off.  It was quite possibly the foulest thing that had ever been in your mouth.  You eyed the greenish inner flesh of the fruit with disgust.

"I don't think we should eat this," you remarked with a grimace.  You were annoyed by the amused look on the general's face.

"It can't be that bad," he told you with a roll of his eyes.  "Here."

You handed him the fruit and watched his reaction as he went through the exact same experience as you.  As he spit it out on the ground, you had to suppress a laugh. 

"Perhaps we should keep looking," General Hux decided.

"Wait, look!" You pointed to another nearby bush, where the marsupial and its young had apparently moved after you scared them away.  You and the general observed as the animal pulled a piece of the fruit from the branches of the shrub and then plucked the stem from the fruit.  You mimicked the furry little creature, making sure to remove the stem.

When you bit into the fruit this time, you were surprised to find that it was quite pleasant.  This time, the inside was a bright pink color instead of green.  You picked another, repeated the process you had learned from the animal, and handed it to Hux.

"Interesting," he remarked after taking a bite.  "Quite unusual.  I've never seen anything like this."

“Can I have your uniform shirt?” you requested, holding out your hand expectantly.  

He had it tied around his waist, but he took it off and handed it to you. You tied it into a makeshift bag and filled it with fruit before slinging it over your shoulder.

“Now we need to find water,” Hux remarked. 

You started moving again, marching ever forward. It wasn’t long, though, before your wishes for water were granted.  Suddenly and with great force, rain began to fall.

And it didn't stop for three days.


	8. Chapter 8

HUX POV

The rain was incessant, pounding down without sympathy.  It had been pleasant when it first started, a welcome relief, but Hux grew tired of it almost immediately.  Water soaked his clothing and sloshed in his boots.  Trudging through the mud was miserable, but he kept walking, and FN-5681 kept following him.  They had to move.  Moving meant staying alive.  Now, though, he desired nothing more than shelter.  There had to be a place to wait out the rain.   

"Up ahead!" FN-5681 yelled out, her voice barely audible over the roar of rainfall.  "That tree!" 

Hux shielded his eyes from the downpour and peered in the direction the pilot indicated.  There was a huge, towering tree held aloft by a winding and complex system of aboveground roots.  The roots were so large and strong that the trunk of the tree did not touch the ground, a natural feat of seemingly-defied physics.  It was held up nearly ten feet over the forest floor. Water ran underneath it, and the ground was muddy, but at least it was protected from the rain.  They slogged through the muck and waterlogged vegetation until they reached the safety of the tree. 

They sat down under the tree, sharing a moment of relief.  The ground was wet, but there was no possible way for either of them to get any wetter.  Their clothing was completely saturated.  Hux tried to pull his shirt away from his skin, but it clung to him the second he let it go.  He took off his boots and dumped out the water before putting them back on. 

"I don't think I've ever been this wet in my life," the pilot said, wringing out her shirt to the best of her ability.  It was a futile gesture. 

"Don't speak too soon," Hux warned.  "The rain hasn't stopped yet.  We've only made a few hours of progress since it began, and we don't know how long storms last here." 

"At least we're out of it now," she sighed.  "Although, I can't say I'm enjoying myself sitting in the mud." 

She copied Hux's actions and emptied her shoes of rainwater.   

"I can take a look at your hand," she said after an extended period of silence.  "I have battlefield medical training.  I can take care of it." 

"That's not necessary." 

"At the very least, you need to unwrap it.  It's not good for it to be tied up with something wet.  That's just asking for an infection."  She scooted closer to him and took his wrist again.  "Just let me look at it." 

He didn't pull away this time, mostly because there was nowhere for him to go to get away from her.  She was insistent, and there was no point in arguing with her.  Hux held his tongue as she untied the cut sleeve of her shirt and unwrapped his hand.  The wound looked about the same as it had when he cut it that morning, only with less blood.  There were no signs of anything amiss.  She turned his hand this way and that, looking at it from every angle.   

"It looks alright for now," she decided. "I wish there was something dry to bandage it back up with, but it doesn't seem infected." 

When she let go of his hand, Hux stood up and walked to the edge of the tree's shelter.  He tried to look out into the jungle, but he couldn't see more than a foot or two in front of himself.  The rain was falling hard and fast, obscuring everything that wasn't protected by the hovering tree trunk and its arching roots.   

Without the rain falling on him in a constant stream, Hux's clothes began to feel tight and uncomfortable.  His shirt in particular was clinging to him like an unwanted extra layer of skin.  To top it all off, the rain did nothing to cool down the forest.  If anything, it added to the sticky feeling and made the air feel almost steamy.  He peeled off his wet shirt and laid it on one of the roots that was just barely out from under the tree's protection.   

"What are you doing?" FN-5681 asked, staring at him wide-eyed. 

"It's not going to dry under here, and it was getting uncomfortable.  This is also the closest I'll get to washing it anytime soon." 

"So you just took your shirt off?" 

"Yes?" He didn't understand her confusion. 

"And you don't see a problem with that?" 

"No." 

"Well, what if I took my shirt off?  You wouldn't see a problem with that?" 

Hux shrugged apathetically. "No." 

She nodded.  "Fair enough. 

Hux was surprised when she followed up the statement by stripping off her top and laying it out next to his on the raised tree root.  He expected that to be the end of it, but she peeled off her pants and socks as well.  When she sat back down, she was wearing only her undergarments.   

There was nothing sexual about what FN-5681 had done.  There was innocence in her actions, an understanding that it was simply the most reasonable thing to do in the situation and that there was no need to be embarrassed by it.  Hux hadn't anticipated that she would strip off her clothes, but when she did, it didn't feel scandalous or wrong.  They had been stranded together for less than twenty-four hours, but there was already a sense of mutual dependence developing between them, as Hux believed was happening.  Despite their disagreement and his distaste for the pilot, he knew that she was his key out of the jungle as much as he was hers.   

He gazed at his knees, which were caked with mud.  Even though he had poured the water out of his boots, they were still wet and uncomfortable, squelching whenever he moved.   

"You know, I don't mind," FN-5681 said. 

"What?" 

"I know what you're wondering, and I don't mind. It's not going to make this weird or anything," she assured him with a timid smile.  "I mean, I'm already in my underwear.  It's not going to get awkward just because you are too.  In fact, it might actually make this less awkward.  I know your wet clothes feel gross." 

Hux eyed her suspiciously for a moment before placing his boots next to hers and stripping off his clothes as she had done.  He spread his garments out with the rest and watched from under the tree as the rain beat down on all of the clothing, washing away the mud and grime. 

"See, not weird." 

And so the two of them sat there under the trunk of the suspended tree, barely clothed, feeling very vulnerable, and yet instilled with an odd sense of safety. 


	9. Chapter 9

READER POV

Sleeping in the mud had been nearly unbearable.  You and the general had taken shifts again, but sleep was still hard to come by.  There was no comfort to be found.  As day three (your second morning) of being stranded in the wilderness began, you couldn't help but feel trapped underneath the tree.  There was no point of walking in the rain.  The deluge was too intense to allow you to cover any sort of ground, and it was dark.

"Where are you going?" You asked when General Hux stepped out in the rain.

"Nowhere," he said, standing in the downpour.

"Oh."

You watched as he let the rain wash the mud off of him and then as he tried to put his wet clothes back on.  With some difficulty, he managed to tug on his much less muddy pants.

"I had hoped that the rain would have been finished by now," he grumbled, stepping back under the tree.

"I hoped the rain would make it cooler," you complained.  "I think it just made it more humid."

Sitting in the mud waiting for the rain to stop was miserable.  There was nowhere to go and nothing to do.  Part of you wished you had an excuse to wander out into the rain.  Anything would have been better than sitting still.  You checked your blasters several times, desperate for something to do.  They were completely waterlogged and nonfunctioning.  You hoped they would dry out when the rain stopped, but you had a suspicion that dryness was nothing but a dream in this rainforest.

The two of you eventually began to wander off into the rain one at a time.  First it was for privacy purposes regarding necessary bodily functions, but it developed into a means of getting away from each other for brief periods of time.  

The day passed slowly, and you only realized night had fallen when it became too dark to see anything.  The next day was not better, and your supply of food was dwindling.  You had only grabbed as much fruit as you could fit into the bag you had made by tying knots in the general's uniform shirt, which wasn't much.  If the rain didn't stop soon, it would be necessary to venture out in search of food.

By the time the rain finally ceased the next afternoon, you and General Hux had grown quite tired of each other's constant presence.  The end of the rainfall was a welcome joy because it meant not only that you could resume the journey forward but also because you would no longer be confined to the same space.

Your clothes were wet when you put them back on, but at least they were cleaner.  The worst part was stepping into your boots and feeling them squish under your feet.   You expected to end the day with blisters. Regardless, you trekked onward.

You quickly started to lose track of the days.  You weren't sure how long it had been since the crash, since your fellow stormtroopers had died, since you had pulled the general from the wreckage.  You were already unsure of how many mornings you had woken up in the jungle on a strange planet with no idea where you were or where you were going.  It hadn't been long, you knew, but the days ran together, and you could never be entirely sure when it was night and when it was day.  It felt like a lifetime had passed already.  Your boots had never dried, so you couldn't be sure how much time had passed since the storm.

"How long have we been out here?" you asked the general, hoping he knew the answer.

"We crashed around noon on the first day.  The rain began sometime the next morning, and it rained for three days straight.  The next day we found more food.  The next day the bugs showed up.  That was yesterday."

"So?" You were too tired to add it all up in your head.

"Somewhere around five and a half days is my best estimate."

"It feels like it's been so much longer than that."

"Wait." He held out an arm to stop you in your tracks.  "Look."

Your eyes followed his gaze until you saw what he was looking at.  There in front of you was an enormous winged reptile dead on the ground.

"We've been walking in circles," you realized.

"No, I'm afraid it's worse than that," Hux said with a morose shake of his head, walking forward and crouching down beside the slain monster to get a better look at it.  "I killed the one that attacked you with one shot to the head.  Look at this one."

You did as he said and saw that the carcass was riddled with blaster wounds.

"Someone else did this."

He nodded, "And I doubt they have our best interests at heart."


	10. Chapter 10

HUX POV

"Sir, do you think we're in danger?" FN-5681 asked, trudging along behind Hux.

"We've been in danger since those enemy fighters fired on our ship," Hux told her condescendingly, not even bothering to look back over his shoulder at her.  "I don't see why we would be in any more danger at present than we have been for the past week."

"But that... thing," she said uneasily.  "Someone killed it, and it wasn't either of us.  You said yourself that it wasn't someone on our side."

"Safety is completely relative at this point.  It's all contingent on whether you would prefer to die from starvation, exposure, infection, or blaster fire.  I personally wouldn't mind being taken down by enemy fire if the other option is being eaten by one of those giant flying reptiles.  At least it's quicker," he said bitterly.

A large patch of mud was coming up ahead.  Hux glanced around, scanning the area for a way to circumnavigate the sludge.  Seeing no other way forward, he advanced through the muck.  He had only taken a handful of steps when he wasn't able to lift his foot back up.  With a disgruntled frown, he jerked his leg, trying to free himself from the consuming mud.  Not succeeding in getting it to budge the first time, he repeated the action several more times.  On his final attempt, his boot finally pulled loose from the mud.  The force of his action knocked him over, and he fell forward, landing face first in the pit of mud.

Hux heard a strange wheezing noise behind him and flipped over, quickly unholstering a very muddy blaster, ready to face off against whatever strange creature had crept up while he was distracted.  However, he saw no beast, just FN-5681.  She was covering her mouth with her hand and shaking slightly.  

"Stop laughing," he ordered, spitting out a mouthful of mud.  He tried to stand up but immediately fell back down.

"Sorry, sir," she said, obviously trying her hardest to follow his command, but failing at it quite miserably after seeing him topple over again.

"Stop that this instant. As your superior, I demand you show respect."

"Yes, sir."

"Reprogramming," he said threateningly.  He only spoke one word, but it was enough to wipe the smile off her face.

"Sorry, sir," she said again.

He tried once more to stand on his feet, but the gesture was futile.

"Help me up," he directed, holding out his hand for her to grab.

Hesitantly, she tried her footing, but it was clear that she would meet the same fate as General Hux if she tried to go any farther.  Standing at the edge of the mud, she leaned over and grabbed his hand.  FN-5681 tugged on his arm, but his weight was apparently greater than what she had bargained for.  Instead of pulling him up, she lurched forward.

During her fall, FN-5681 stuck out her arms to brace herself, elbowing Hux in the ribs as she landed on top of him.

"Sorry, sir," she repeated, scrambling to get off of him.  Unable to stabilize herself, she slipped in the mud and fell again – this time colliding into him with even greater force.

When she started to try again, Hux – who was not particularly eager to be fallen upon a third time – grabbed her firmly by the shoulders and pushed her to the side, causing her to flop into the mud on her back.  He was frustrated with the situation, but he found a great deal of amusement in seeing her fall.  He saw it as comeuppance for laughing at him.  It was only fitting that she should suffer the same fate.

Moving very slowly and carefully, Hux was finally able to stand.  He held out his hand to help the pilot up, and she managed to get to her feet as well.  Very carefully, they both managed to take a few hesitant steps forward.  Slowly, very slowly, they moved forward and made it out of the mud.

"I almost wish it would rain again," the pilot grumbled when they were on solid ground again, wiping thick, sticky goop from her clothing but mostly only succeeding in smearing it around.

"I personally don't want to be stuck in one place for days on end.  Someone is out here with us.  We need to keep moving now more than ever before."

"You said before that you don't think we're in any more danger now than we already were."

"Exactly," he explained.  "We've been in the same amount of dire peril the entire time.  The only difference is that we now have confirmation of the fact."

"And that isn't worse?"

"No," Hux informed her with a contrary shake of his head.  "In fact, I feel quite a bit better knowing I haven't simply been paranoid.  It takes away the element of the unknown."

FN-5681 frowned.  "But we don't know who they are, what they want, or what kind of weapons they're carrying.  That seems pretty unknown to me."

"They're Resistance, they want to either kill or capture us, and they're carrying a combination of standard-issue blaster pistols and rifles."

"How did you..."

"The marks on the animal they shot down – there were two different sizes of wounds.  I suppose we still don't know how many of them there are."

"At least two," FN-5681 noted.  "If there are two types of blasters, then there are at least two people to fire them."

"I'm betting on a great deal more than two."

"Why is that?"

He looked at her very seriously.  "Based on the way things have transpired up until this moment, I find it incredibly unlikely that we would ever be that lucky."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the super long wait, everyone. I have very limited free time and internet access while I'm working my summer job, so I haven't been able to write or update. Now that I'm done for the summer, I'm back with a new chapter.

READER POV

All too soon, the rain began to fall again. The downpour was every bit as miserable as the time before. Placing one foot in front of the other, you willed yourself to continue forward, to follow General Hux as he led the way. Every step was torture now. You had been on your feet for days, maybe weeks. There had come a point at which neither of you lost all concept of what day it was or how long you had been stranded in the wilderness.

Everything had been wet before the rain fell. Your clothing had been drenched in sweat since you had crash landed, and your boots hadn’t dried any since the last time it had rained. Now, as the storm raged, you came to the conclusion that you had never been so broken in your life. Your hope, your will to continue on, your spirit – whatever is was that was getting you from one day to the next – was gone.

You were momentarily thankful for the rain as tears began to stream down your face. The general couldn’t see your tears through the sheets of water pouring down from the sky. You were trying to be a good soldier. You knew reconditioning would await you if you stepped a toe out of line. Still, you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, intermingling with the rain and falling to the ground.

General Hux shouted something, but your couldn’t hear him over the deluge.

“WHAT, SIR?” you bellowed.

“AHEAD! THERE!” He gestured to something that you couldn’t see. The rain was so heavy that you could barely see him, let alone anything in the distance. “SHELTER!”

You trudged forward, trusting Hux's judgment even though you couldn’t see what he saw. Soon enough, he grabbed you by the shoulder and dragged you under an outcropping of rock. You had been walking along the side of a cliff face for miles, too preoccupied with monitoring where you stepped to ever look up. Sure enough – shelter. It wasn’t much. The outcropping only jutted out a few short feet. It was barely enough to keep you both covered, but it was enough to provide respite from the downpour.

“WE'LL STOP HERE FOR THE NIGHT!” Hux shouted authoritatively.

Was it night? There was really no way of knowing. If anyone was still following you, though, they would be just as immobilized by the rain as you were. Rest sounded nice.

You looked down at the down, noting curiously that it wasn’t muddy. Bending down, you touched the soil, mesmerized to feel that it was dry. The rain was falling at an angle which left the space under the rock ledge from getting wet. The perimeter of the dry ground was getting smaller as the ground became more and more saturated, but for now it was dry.

“I CAN TAKE FIRST WATCH!” you yelled. The ledge may have protected you from the rain, but it didn’t make it any less deafening.

The general shook his head. “NO ONE IS FOLLOWING US. NOT IN THIS. REST.” He sat down on the ground and motioned for you to do the same.

You obligingly sat down beside him. Immediately, you felt relief. You were still miserable, but less so.

If Hux felt as bad as he looked, he was suffering just as much as you. His pale skin was blotchy and red with bug bites and contact with strange plants. His eyes looked sunken and hollow. The lower half of his face was obstructed by a beard that had gradually appeared as the hair growth suppressants you suspected he normally took were off. He had always been rather thin, but the malnutrition he was experiencing showed on his frame. The most striking difference, though, was the way he no longer flinched when his arm brushed against yours. In fact, he seemed to relish the contact, as if maybe it served as a reminder that he wasn’t all alone in the vast and punishing jungle.

As time passed and the rain continued to fall, the area of dry space shrank. You scooted as close to General Hux as you felt comfortable, but you could feel water seeping through your clothing. You glanced at Hux, who was drowsily staring out into the storm like he might see something through the sheets of rain, before scooting a little bit closer.

You gasped in surprise, glad the sound was drowned out by thunder, as the general pulled you into his lap. When you had first crashed, he had been visibly disgusted at the notion of touching your ungloved hand. Now he was pulling you into his personal space – going as far as to make full body contact – simply for the sake of keeping you dry.

You felt a strange urge to nestle against his chest but fought it off, knowing it would make things uncomfortable between the two of you. There was an odd kind of intimacy in the moment – not sexual intimacy, but intimacy nonetheless. As you rested your head against the rock face and began to drift off into slumber, you wondered if he felt that same way. 


End file.
